


The Importance of Television

by lellabeth



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Crossdressing, Feels, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny!Steve, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he feels like Bucky is right there within touching distance, just out of his reach, and he can never quite catch up to cling on tight. He hopes for memories of their old life but tells himself to be content with building a new one. This is his best friend, his lover, his Bucky, and he will never, ever give up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of Television

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EveryDayBella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/gifts).



> for EDB.

Steve understood Bucky’s love of the Food Network. Growing up, they were lucky to have one hot meal a day, and the Winter Soldier had purposely been half-starved as a method of gaining compliance. Bucky had been almost perplexed by food at first. He’d eaten everything standing up, cradling the plate against his metal arm and holding so tight he’d crushed porcelain more than once. Steve had to stop him from trying to scoop mashed potato up from between the shards, lump in his throat and his heart in more pieces than the plate, promising Bucky he could eat whatever he wanted. There were endless hours of cookery shows played, paused every minute or two so Bucky could write the recipes down by hand. Steve had come home one day to Bucky sitting at their dining room table, burnt chicken breasts and limp lemon-glazed broccoli between the two placemats, and he’d had to bite his lip to stop from crying.

He understood the love of cartoons, too. The shows weren’t always happy - there were plenty of times that one kid took a joke too far and hurt another, or an evil monster came to scare everyone away. Bucky would sit tense during those parts, holding his metal arm away from his body like it could burn his skin. Steve had tried to change the channel once, but Bucky had rasped at him to “leave it, Stevie, please”  and so he had. What mattered most, though, were the endings. No matter what had happened during the twenty minutes before, the main character would always swoop in to save the day. Evil was lurking shadowy in the background, but good always, always won. And by the end, when all was said and done, Bucky would be slumped into the couch cushions, and Steve wondered how many times Bucky needed to watch them to see himself as the good guy rather than the bad.

The biggest surprise of all was a show that made Steve’s cheek turn splotched strawberry. Walking in to see Bucky watching it, leaning forward on the couch like he wanted to be closer - it had felt like a punch to the stomach. He looked at the men dressing up like dames, putting on their wigs and brushing their cheeks with rouge, padding their bodies until they melted into something softer. He wondered if Bucky remembered the same things he did; Steve’s hummingbird body, all angles and bone, stuffed into a slinky dress. His lips slicked with something pretty and pink, his eyes all smudgy with eyeliner, hand on Bucky’s arm as they went out to the dancing clubs. Bucky would twirl him round the dancefloor, Steve’s dainty feet steady on thin heels, and his whole skin would feel alight from the way Bucky’s eyes burned for him. For Steve, skinny, tiny, Steve. And people would see them and smile, thinking of a soldier out with his girl, and Steve would ache all over, like he was nothing more than one big wound. But when they’d get home, Bucky would touch him reverently, remove his clothes piece by piece. Bucky was determined to show Steve he loved him enough for a whole world’s full of people, and Steve’s body was alight with the glow of being wanted. 

Sometimes he feels like Bucky is right there within touching distance, just out of his reach, and he can never quite catch up to cling on tight. He hopes for memories of their old life but tells himself to be content with building a new one. This is his best friend, his lover, his  _Bucky_ , and he will never, ever give up.

In the future, maybe, there will be time to tell Bucky all about this. For now, he just swallows and closes his eyes, not opening them until he feels the cool touch of metal on his cheek.

One thing Bucky hadn’t forgotten, obviously, was how to be a sassy little shit.

“You think we can find a dress in your size now, punk?” Bucky says, and Steve’s eyes tear up and he’s laughing at the same time as pressing his lips against Bucky’s so hard that he knocks the man back a few steps.

Bucky tastes like home.


End file.
